


Clarity

by grandilloquism



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-28
Updated: 2012-06-28
Packaged: 2017-11-08 18:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/445989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grandilloquism/pseuds/grandilloquism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The two week adventure of the Easter Holiday of sixth year, in which there is a great deal of Revenge and Other Interesting Things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

/>  


 

Day One: Blue Paint

            The Easter break of their sixth year, the fortnight that included Remus’ birthday, it was only the two of them in the dormitory, Sirius having refused the Potter’s hospitality after he learned that James’ parents were hosting the holiday at their home, and, as the full moon actually fell on Easter, Remus disliked to trouble his mother in that way. They said their good-byes in the Great Hall over breakfast and waved them off, James to home and Peter to extended family and a sunny vacation. They went directly back to sleep afterward, it having taken most of the night to lay the hex that would spew noxious blue paint when their friend’s opened their trunks.

            Day Two: Flood

            It was raining the next morning, a constant cold drizzle broken by sporadic bursts of earnest storms, and seeing it out the window after having been woken by the crash of thunder, Remus pulled the blanket up over his head and resolved not to get up until noon. It was only perhaps nine when his plans were interrupted. “ _Remus_ ,” a familiar voice hissed in his ear.

            “Urgh.”

            “Remus!”

            “Sleeping. Go away,” he said, as distinctly as he could.

            “Won’t,” came the obstinate reply. “Besides, you should see this.”

            It was then that Remus became aware of an uncomfortable truth: though certainly it had smelt of rain earlier, the smell had grown. It was as if a window had been opened, which, as he could not feel the wind that howled outside, was unlikely. There was also a sound, much quieter than the lash of rain, that resembled nothing so much as a leaky tap. “Sirius?” he kept his eyes shut.

            “Yeah?”

            “Please tell me that what I think is happening has not happened.”

            He could hear his friend’s grin, “Bad luck, mate. We’re being rained on.”

            Remus opened his eyes. Sirius was crouched beside his bed, soaked through, his pale skin even paler and nearly blue from cold, his hair plastered to his face. It was raining in their dormitory: the roof was intact, the windows were closed, but rain poured down steadily from the ceiling nonetheless.

            “I’m going to kill James,” Sirius said, his teeth beginning to chatter. “Budge up, will you? Everything else is drenched.”

            Dazedly, he replied, “I put Impervius charms on my bed last month, after you and Prongs and Wormtail threw flobberworms through the curtains.” He was feeling more awake by the second, unfortunately.

            “Target practice,” Sirius smiled, unrepentant. “Good thing, too, or we’d both be soaked.”

            Remus drew up his knees and made room. Sirius stood and stripped, pulling his shirt over his head and stepping out of his trousers—both garments fell wetly to the floor. Wearing only pants, and those rather wet as well, Sirius fell beside Remus, pulling the curtains closed behind him and dragging at the blankets. Remus had scrunched his eyes closed, wondering if this counted as good or bad luck. Both, probably.

            “You’re not going back to sleep?” Sirius shook out his hair, causing water to land cold and wet across the previously warm and dry bedding. He opened his eyes in time to see Sirius push his marginally less wet hair back with both hands—Remus did not mention that with his hair slicked back he looked like his brother. Sirius grinned at him, erasing the resemblance to dour, serious Regulus. “We’ve revenge to plot!”

            “It’s too early for revenge,” a token protest, as he was sure he couldn’t get back to sleep.

            “Poppycock!” his friend shouted, causing Remus to start. “It’s never too early for revenge.”

            Remus scrubbed the sleep from his eyes, “Shouldn’t we see about stopping the monsoon first? Besides, it could have been anyone—you can’t accuse James when he’s not even here to defend himself.”

            Sirius held out his right arm, on the forearm was written, in familiar capitals: ‘ENJOY THE WEATHER!’ It was signed ‘J.’ and ‘P.’ “Can’t I?” 

            “Well,” Remus considered, “we did charm their trunks to spray them with paint.”

            “But they didn’t know about that, yet. The must have done this _days_ ago.”

            “Alright,” he conceded. “Do you have a plan?”

            “Not as such,” Sirius admitted. “Not yet.”

            Remus yawned, considering the options, “Alright, this might work: write a letter to James, don’t mention the rain. Say everything is normal, boring. He’ll be suspicious, but he might think the spell didn’t work. He might not expect anything, then.”

            “Devious Moony,” Sirius grinned. “Do I mention the paint?”

            “Yes,” he decided, after a moment’s thought. “Be annoying about it, he might think you’ve written to rub it in.”

            “What about Peter?”

            “Later,” he shook his head. “Separate plans, so they can’t compare notes.”

            Sirius was smiling, “What would I ever do without you?”

            “Drown, probably.”

            He curled up on himself, lying on his side, knees nearly to his chin. “Probably,” he agreed and yawned. “What next?”

            “I’m sure you can think of something appropriately nasty.”

            “They’ll suspect any package we send. Prongs might not even open a letter.”

            Remus tilted his head to one side, “Use a school owl, someone else’s name. He’ll open anything if it has Lily’s name on it, even if he does suspect us; he won’t be able to resist. In fact,” his eyebrows drew together in a slight frown, “she might help us. Write a him a letter we can send.”

            “You _are_ devious. She’s here?”

            “Prefect duties, two from each house—I think she volunteered.”

            “Good,” Sirius pronounced. “Excellent. Now, summon my wand for me and we’ll get rid of this rain.”

 

            It took forty minutes to kill the spells on the ceiling and another twenty to dry out the room. “Any ideas?” Remus asked, when they were back on his bed, chilled but dry.

            “Hmm?” Sirius’ eyes were closed, his hands laced over his stomach.

            “For James—your revenge. Any ideas?”

            A slow smile crept across his face. Eyes still closed he answered, “A field of them.” He rolled off the bed suddenly, catching himself at the last second with his arms and pushing back up against the floor to his feet in one fluid movement. “I’ll write that letter now, post it.”

            “You’ll want to put some trousers on—you know what McGonagall will do if she catches you naked in the corridors. Again.”

            Sirius’ grin grew lascivious, his eyes laughing, “The saucy kitten.” He laughed, “Right then, Moony, letter and trousers. A shirt, too, do you think?”

            Remus failed utterly at maintaining any sort of serious expression. “And drive McGonagall into a frenzy of passion? She might never recover.”

            “Too right, Moony.” Sirius winked at him, snatching one of Remus’ own shirts off the top of his trunk and pulling it on.

 

            They had missed breakfast, but it didn’t take much to coax a bacon sandwich and a quick cup of tea from the kitchens. It was past eleven when he left, a pear in one pocket and a small, slightly soggy bundle wrapped in a napkin in the other. He found Lily in the common room, studying at one of the small tables by the windows.

            “Runes?” he asked, taking the seat next to her. “I could help.”

            “You could,” she agreed, marking her place with a finger, its nail painted bright blue. She barely glanced at him before her expression grew suspicious. “What do you want?”

            “Hardly anything,” he smiled. “Just a small favour.” He dug the bundle from his pocket and folded back the napkin, revealing several dozen olives. Lily insisted that friends didn’t need to bargain, but Remus liked to keep things even, and olives were her favourite. 

            She took the napkin from him, expression resigned. “What is it?” He explained about the morning’s flood and their plans for James. “And you think he won’t open anything from you two?” She considered it, twining a string of hair around her finger. “Sure, I’ll write him something. Does it matter what I say?” Her grin was sharp and toothy.

            Remus smiled back, “It depends on what Sirius decides. If it’s package then we need him to open it, but if it can fit in an envelope….”

            “Alright, when do you need it?”

            “Day or two—I’ll tell you when.”

            “Fair enough,” she shrugged and popped an olive into her mouth.

 

            "Lily’s in,” he told Sirius when he set across from him at lunch.

            “Excellent,” he looked distracted. “Could you get some lionfish spine from the potion stores?”

            “It’s in the open cupboard; I can get it after lunch. We’re making a potion?”

            “I’m making a potion,” Sirius corrected, his hazy expression retreating. “No offense, Moony.”

            “None taken. Where will you be, that you can’t make it to the dungeons?”

            “Forest,” he replied, “following my nose. The potion needs flutterbush stamen—Sprout will notice if I take them from the greenhouses, and they need to be fresh.”

            Remus couldn’t think of a potion that required fresh flutterbush stamen off the top of his head, but that wasn’t surprising. “What’s the potion?”

            Sirius shook his head, glancing about the –sparsely populated—Great Hall. “Later.” He pushed his plate away, food barely touched. “I won’t be long—an hour, maybe.”

            “I’ll follow you on the Map,” there was less possibility of being caught if only one of them entered the forest and, as a dog, Sirius attracted less attention.

            “After you get the powdered spine,” he protested, and then left before Remus could argue with him.

            “Pillock,” he finished his meal and descended to the dungeons. 

 

            Sirius having not specified the amount of powdered lionfish spine he would need, Remus took an entire vial of it and went back up to the dormitory to wait. Sirius was already out of range by the time he unfolded the Map and without much else to do Remus lay back on his bed and fell into sleep. He dreamed: A woman with pale blue skin was leading him through a labyrinth, a spool of string unraveling behind them. There were horns poking up from her violently curly brown hair, antelope horns, and her feet clip-clopped on the paved floor like hooves. She wore a full skirted dress of some yellow-green material that floated as she moved, tissue-like. When she turned to face him her eyes proved to be black—or perhaps merely very dark blue—and without  white sclera. Her face was elongated, almost snout like; when she spoke it was not in a language Remus recognized.

            “Are you Ariadne?” he asked. “Or the Minotaur?” She didn’t respond, but handed him the skein of thread. “A clue,” he said, then corrected himself, “clew. The string that led Theseus through the labyrinth.” The blue antelope woman walked away, then began running. Remus ran after, trailing string behind him, never quite catching her up, arriving just in time to see her turn another corner, hair flying out behind her, hooves clacking on the stone floor. When they finally came to a dead end the woman turned, smiled, and disappeared. 

            “Wait—“ Remus began, then woke up. The dream swirled mist-like through his thoughts, refusing to resolve itself, then disappeared entirely, leaving behind only the sense of dissatisfaction.

            Sirius was back, having brought the smell of the Forest with him. It, too, tickled at Remus’ memory: the scent of magic and green growing things, leaf litter and animal musk. “Find what you need?” he asked, stretching.

            “You got too much lionfish spine,” Sirius informed him from his perch on the windowsill, “I won’t use even use a quarter of it.”

            “Whose fault is that? Give me an amount next time. Did you get the stamen?”

            “Easy.” Sirius kicked his feet, “I’ve been back an hour—you looked like you needed the sleep.”

            “Considerate.”

            Sirius grinned, “Not really. It’s useless sneaking into Slughorn’s secure cupboard if he’s not distracted. Dinner’s not for twenty minutes.”

            Remus was resigned, “What are we stealing?”

            His friend appeared scandalized, “ _Liberating_ , Lupin. Liberating, for a just and noble purpose.”

            Remus persisted, “What are we stealing?”

            Sirius shook his head, smiling, “We need Erumpet liver.”

            “A whole one? Slughorn will notice _that_.”

            “Just a part, and he won’t notice if we’re careful about it.”

            “He might,” Remus insisted.

            Sirius made a dismissive hand gesture, “A small chance—very small. Are you backing out?” there was a mocking shimmer to his eyes.

            “Of course not. I’d merely like to mention that there are barely forty students here, he’s bound to know it’s us.”

            “ _But_ ,” he snapped his fingers, “he’ll never be able to prove it, because the potion is for James and he’s not here.”

            “Unless we’re found out while you’re making it.”

            Sirius was dismissive, “That will never happen.”

            “November, fourth year—I got three weeks in the trophy room; I smelt like metal polish for a month.”

            “Count yourself lucky,” he said, “I was in the Infirmary— I don’t even want to think about what I came away smelling of.” He waved a hand, “But now we have the Map, and you can keep watch.”

            Remus closed his eyes, suddenly wishing he had managed more sleep, “When?”

            “Tonight, while the flutterbush is still fresh.”

            Remus opened his eyes, “And what are you making?”

            Sirius’ smile was sly, “In good time, Moony, all will be revealed.”

            Remus leaned back into his bed and closed the hangings on Sirius’ laughter.

 

            A check of the Map told him Lily was in her dormitory. He waited in the common room until a second year—he thought her name was Leocadia, but he didn’t care to risk it—came through the portrait hole and asked her to fetch Lily.

            “Why?” she asked, instead of the more usual blushing and giggling that was his experience with girls her size. 

            He stared down at her. She had very pale green eyes and short, straight black hair and such a petulant expression that he wondered vaguely if she was some distant relation of Sirius’. “I need to ask her something. Prefect business,” he lied.

            She frowned at him for a beat before going up the stairs.   Nothing happened for such a long time that he thought the girl had simply gone to her room, but eventually Lily came down. “Cadi thought we were being exploited,” she said.

            “What?”

            “Leocadia, the girl you sent? Her mother’s one of those women who chained themselves to the fountain in the Ministry last year. She had _Ideas_.”

            “Good for her. Is that what took you so long? I thought she hadn’t told you.”

            She shifted, a bit guiltily. “I was reading. Muggle fantasy,” she supplied at his inquiring look. “Dragons, knights, and helpless maidens,” she made a face at the last one.

            “And evil sorcerers,” Remus added, with a rueful smile.

            “You’ve read it,” she said, with a smile to match his own. “Now, did you need something or did you just want to comment on my choices in literature? Cadi said it was prefect business?”

            “Oh, well, I had to tell her something, she looked like she might hex me.”

            Lily chuckled, “The letter, then? Do you need it now?”

            “Tomorrow. Sirius is going to dip it in the potion, so you can write whatever you like.”

            “Well if that’s all,” she said, grinning, “I can get back to my book, then.”

            He let her.

 

            “Will you tell me now?” Remus asked, the Map in front of him, watching out of the corner of his eye as Sirius’ potion turned silver.

            Sirius was measuring out something violently green with a dropper. “It causes insubstantiability—anything it touches.” 

            “Oh, _Sirius_ ,” he began to smile. “So he puts it on a desk—“

            “It sinks through, touches something else, and so on.”

            “Time delay?”

            “Initially. Twelve hours before whatever the letter has touched is affected, after that it’s instantaneous.”

            “How do you stop it?”

            “The usual way—earth, fire, or salt water. And the effect wears off after a few days.” He added four drops of the green liquid and began stirring widdershins with his wand. Slowly, the potion thinned and darkened. When it was like obsidian—shiny and black and slightly opaque—Sirius ceased stirring and nodded in satisfaction. “What’s the moon tonight?”

            “Full is on Sunday.”

            “Excellent. Any stronger and it might fall through the envelope en route.” He frowned, “I suppose the Potter’s have wards on the house? I’d hate for it to collapse or something because the wrong beam went insubstantial.”

            “It’s an old house,” he said, “they would have been laid when the structure went up.” Remus had learned a lot about magical architecture in the last few years. 

            “Good,” Sirius nodded, standing up and stretching—he had been at the cauldron for a little over an hour. “I’d like to think they would forgive me, but I’d prefer to avoid the Howler, all the same.” When Remus did not say anything he picked up the cauldron, hands protected from the hot metal by an insulating charm, extinguished the fire that had burned on the bare floor underneath it, and set the potion in the window. “How fared you with Evans?”

            “Fine,” he shrugged. “We’ll have the letter tomorrow. Later today, rather,” he corrected himself, glancing at his watch. There was a long silence, and for the life of him Remus couldn’t put a finger on when things had taken such a turn towards uncomfortable.

            “Do you like her?” Sirius asked, finally.  The room was dim, lit only by a lamp and the starlight shining through the open window. Sirius’ pale eyes were bright, reflecting back the sparse illumination, and his hair was nearly lost to shadows.

            “What?” The question had taken him by surprise.

            Sirius’ voice was flat and quiet, barely a whisper in the sudden hush, “You heard me. Do you like her?”

            Remus swallowed and resisted the urge to fidget by clasping his hands together, the fingers threading. “I would never do that to James.”

            “That isn’t what I asked,” he enunciated the words very precisely, as if he wanted no confusion over them, and for the third time asked, “Do you like her?”

            “No,” he said, and watched the tension go out of his friend’s body. “She’s very kind, but she’s only a friend.”

            Sirius smiled at him, white teeth glinting in the dark.


	2. Clarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two week adventure of the Easter Holiday of sixth year, in which there is a great deal of Revenge and Other Interesting Things.

Day Three:  Fight  
 

                Remus missed breakfast again the next morning.  Sirius, predictably, was already gone, and he could not find him on the Map when he looked to find Lily, despite the lack of people in the castle.  Deciding it meant he was outside the range of the Map, Remus firmly resolved to not let it worry him. 

                Lily was in the East courtyard, laid out flat on a bench with a book and a plum.  “Hello,” she said, not looking away from the novel she held over her head.  She was wearing sunglasses, a cheap muggle pair made of bright blue plastic that looked as incongruous as the flimsy paperback she was reading.

                “The book looking up?” he asked, wondering if the sleeveless shirt meant she was trying to tan in the flimsy Scottish spring.

                “Rubbish,” she said with a smile, “but somehow still compelling.  Here for my letter?”

                “I am.”

                She looked over the rims of the glasses at him, eyebrows raised, “You’re too late.  Black got it hours ago.”

                This took a second to process, “ _Sirius_?”

                Her grin was crooked, “No, his brother came up from London and stole it from me, just to ruin your petty revenge on Potter.  Or, better yet, that succubus blonde and her mad sister descended on me and demanded that I give it to them.”

                Remus winced, “I get your point, thank you.”

                Her eyes narrowed and she looked sharper, smile gone.  “Are you alright?  Is something wrong?”

                “I’m—“he hesitated over saying ‘ _fine_ ,’ “well enough.  Why?”

                She pushed herself up, setting her book down, and settled cross-legged on the stone bench; she took her sunglasses off.  “Black looked awful, earlier, and here you are looking just as bad.  Has something happened?”

                He considered her question: Had something happened last night?  He wasn’t sure.  “Did he mention… anything?”

                She crossed her arms over her chest, “Anything?  Like what?”

                “I just meant—never mind.  We talked about—and it was…odd.  Sorry, forget I brought it up.  I don’t think Sirius has been sleeping.  Did he mention where he was going?”

                She looked bemused, “Not a clue.”

                “Right, thanks.  Sorry—I’ll just…go.  Thanks for the letter.”

                “Sure, Lupin.”  Somehow she managed to frown and smile at the same time, “Anytime.”

 

                Figuring it was his best bet, Remus staked out the statue of the humpbacked witch on the third corridor after lunch.  He checked the Map from time to time, going over the entire castle when he was sure he wasn’t going to be interrupted.  The only person who stopped and talked with him was shortly after he took his post.

                “Mr. Lupin,” McGonagall greeted him.

                “Professor,” he didn’t stand, but inclined his head respectfully.

                “Could I ask what you’re doing?”

                _You could_ , he just barely kept himself from saying aloud.  “I’m resting, Professor.”

                “Resting?” he thought he detected a smile, but couldn’t be sure.  “Yes, of course.  Very tired, were you?”

                “Extremely.”

                “Yes.  Mr. Lupin?”

                “Yes, Professor?”

                “You understand, of course, that if anything happens to this particular stretch of corridor, or, in fact, anywhere around it—and by that I mean the entire castle—“

                “I’ll spend two weeks supervising your remedial first years?”

                “Exactly right, Mr. Lupin.  Enjoy your holiday.”

                “I will, Professor.  Thank you.”  She walked away then, and the only other soul that passed him for the rest of the afternoon was little Leocadia Halifax, looking disapproving.  He waved and smiled, but her frown merely deepened and her steps grew even quicker.  He considered apologizing for whatever she thought it was he had done, but by then she was already out of sight.

                He was patient, but after two hours he stood, tucked the Map into a pocket, and turned his feet towards Gryffindor Tower.

 

                Rather naturally of someone who had slept one full night of three, Remus fell asleep shortly after sprawling across the sofa in the empty Common Room.  The capricious sun had retreated behind a mantle of clouds, and the gentle sounds of drizzling rain and the lazy crackle of the fire lulled him quickly to sleep.

                In his dream he was standing on a bridge.  It was a smallish bridge, spanning a mere trickle of a stream, made of much weathered wood, its nails bleeding rust.  In the way of dreams he knew he had walked through the forest that surrounded him on all sides and to the bridge, but he couldn’t remember why or where he had come from.  The sun was wrong for it to be the Forbidden Forest—too close, and with a different quality of light.  A robin flew down from a nearby chestnut tree and perched on the handrail of the bridge.  It tilted its head, inspecting him with one eye and then the other.  Finally, it asked, “Are you going to cross?”

                “What?”

                It shifted its feet impatiently, rustling its wings.  “The bridge, you oaf.  Are you going to cross the bridge or are you just going to stand there?”  The bird was male, its accent English and unremarkable, save that it came from a beak.

                He looked down at the river, the water was remarkably clear, and saw small fish in its shallow depths, their scales glinting silver in the sunlight.  “I don’t know.  Should I?”

                Perhaps it was the tilt of its head that caused the robin to look amused, “Hell if I know.  I’m just a bird, aren’t I?’  It flew away, and Remus woke up.

                “Sweet dreams?” asked a voice.  It was Sirius, sprawled in the chair to his left.

                “ _Strange_ dreams,” he shook his head in an effort to clear it.  The common room was dark, lit only by the unsteady flicker of firelight.  “Time?” he requested.

                “Nearly midnight.”

                “I was—“ he shook his head again.  “Where have you been?”

                Sirius shrugged, “Here and there.”

                “Doing…?”

                “Nothing important,” he turned his head towards the hearth and Remus saw the spread of bruising around his right eye and a bloody stain down his shirtfront.

                “Getting into fights?” he made an effort to keep his voice level.

                Again Sirius shrugged, and for a moment Remus thought he wasn’t going to speak, but then he said, “Singular—one fight.  And I didn’t start it.”

                “I don’t believe you.”

                Sirius grinned, and then winced, his lip was split.  “Well, I didn’t.”

                “Maybe you didn’t throw the first punch, but I think you underestimate how annoying you can be.  Who were you antagonizing?”

                He received another shrug.

                “Does that mean you don’t know or that you don’t want to tell me?” Sirius didn’t answer.  “I suppose I can wait until morning and see who turns up to breakfast bruised and bleeding—always assuming it _was_ a student.”

                “Marek Hagop.”

                It took Remus a moment to place the name, it was so unexpected.  “Sweet _Circe_ , Sirius.”  He rubbed his face with one hand, “How did you manage to pick a fight with the most even tempered Ravenclaw there ever was?”

                Sirius smiled, licking away the blood that came to his injured lip, “It wasn’t easy.”

                “He’s huge, Sirius!  What possessed you—“he took a deep, steadying breath.  “Did you win, at least?”

                Sirius threw back his head and laughed, his shoulders shaking, face scrunched.  “ _Moony_ ,” he said when he was finished, voice full of warmth, face alive with happiness.

                “That’s a ‘ _no_ ,’ then,” Remus hazarded:  Sirius was always happier after losing a fight than when he won.

                “Resounding,” Sirius agreed.

                Remus levered himself off the sofa, sighing, “Well, come on, then.”

                Sirius stood, and then thought to ask, “What are we doing?”

                “Patching you up.”  Remus led the way up the stairs.  “I can’t let you go to breakfast looking like this.”

                “I’d only tell McGonagall I fell down; Hagop won’t say anything.”

                Remus shook his head and opened the door to their dormitory, “Hagop won’t have a mark on him by morning, he’ll have made sure of that.  Neither will you.”

                “Ah,” said Sirius, understanding.  “It’s a matter of House pride, alright.”

               

                Sirius _had_ lost the fight, Remus realized as he dabbed sharp smelling liquid on his many cuts, cleaning them before applying a healing charm.  He saved the Murtlap essence, which he was short of, for the bruises, rubbing it in until the swelling went down and the colour faded. The sheer amount of injuries kept the roiling feeling in Remus’ stomach confined to concern and sympathy.

                “Shirt,” he said, when the scabs on Sirius’ knuckles were gone.

                “I’m not sure I can lift my arm,” he admitted, canting his head to one side.  “My ribs,” he explained, when Remus inspected his arms for injuries and found none, “right side.”

                Of course it was, Remus shook his head, Sirius was left-handed, and Remus had seen him fight often enough to know that he consistently left his right side open.  “Stupid,” he admonished.

                Sirius grinned, unrepentant, his lip healed but still slightly swollen.  “Nothing like a round of fisticuffs to liven up an evening.”

                Remus didn’t respond, but cut Sirius’ shirt off him with his wand, peeling back the fabric to get a look at the skin underneath.  Sundry bruises spotted his chest and abdomen, an especially violent example turning his stomach red and blue.  The worst, though, was high on his right side, a bruise as big as Remus’ hand and livid against red and swollen skin.  “Bruised,” he pronounced his insides hollow.  “Probably cracked.  Does it feel broken?”

                “I’ve never broken a rib before—how should I know?”

                “Does it hurt to breathe?”

                Sirius looked sheepish, “I wouldn’t know—mostly I’ve been breathing on the other side.”

                Gently, he explored the swollen area with his fingertips.  “Fractured, probably.”  He helped prop Sirius against his pillows.  “We have a few options,” he said, when Sirius was reclining as comfortably as he could manage.

                “Splendid, let’s hear them.”

                “I could take you to Pomfrey.”

                “Who would report me to McGonagall for fighting.”

                “I could finish cleaning you up and _then_ take you to Pomfrey-- tell her you fell.”

                “Undignified, potentially painful, still risking detention—next?”

                “Murtlap would reduce the swelling, heal the bruises, and take some of the pain away—“

                “That sounds nice,” Sirius interrupted.

                “But it wouldn’t fix the break.  I could take the Map, sneak down to the library, and find the right spell.”

                “You’ve healed bones before.”

                “I healed James’ broken _nose_ —big difference.”

                “Fair enough.  Next?”

                “Option number—“ he hesitated.

                “Four,” Sirius supplied.

                “Thank you.  Option number four is the same as three, except we bind your ribs and I get to wait until morning to go to the library.”

                “Any others?”

                “Er… I leave you to languish in pain?”

                Sirius laughed and by his wince, immediately regretted it.  Remus wondered if the endorphins from the fight had kept him from feeling the pain earlier.  “Three,” he said.  “Three sounded good.”

                “I agree.”  Remus used the last of the Murtlap on the largest bruises, causing them to disappear almost entirely, and greatly reducing the swelling.  The trip to the library and back was uneventful, thanks to the Map.  In under half an hour he was back in their dormitory with a book of practical healing charms.  Ten minutes study proved enough for him to ably, if not confidently, place his wand tip to Sirius’ side and very firmly and carefully pronounce the spell.  There was a wince-worthy crack and a resulting hiss of pain from Sirius before he let out an even, relieved breath.  A bit hesitant he set up, then, gaining in confidence, began to go through a full range of motion:  stretching, twisting, and flexing.

                “Better?” Remus asked.

                Sirius took a deep breath and let it out, “Exponentially.  Have I ever told you how incredible you are, Moony?”

                “I don’t believe you have,” he replied, straight-faced.

                “You’re incredible,” Sirius grinned.  He stood up, stretched his arms over his head, standing on tip-toes, and then bent at his waist, his fingertips nearly reaching the floor.

                “Any soreness?” he asked when Sirius stood normally.

                “Bit tender,” he shrugged.  “Not bad, though.”

                Remus repaired Sirius’ shirt with a bit of deft spellwork and handed it back to him. “I don’t suppose this will stop you from fighting?”

                “What do you think?” Sirius smiled so insolently that Remus wanted to punch him himself.

                “I think next time you should avoid fighting people built on the same line as gorillas.”  
  
                “Agreed.”

  



	3. Clarity, 3 of 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two week adventure of the Easter Holiday of sixth year, in which there is a great deal of Revenge and Other Interesting Things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book quoted is Norton Juster's The Phantom Tollbooth. 

Day Four: Co-conspirators  
  
Remus woke early the next morning after a dreamless few hours sleep. Sirius was not awake, which was such an unusual turn of events that Remus took a moment to study him without being observed. There were dark smudges under his eyes and a hollowness to his cheeks that Remus didn’t like. His features, unsoftened by their usual humour, were almost saturnine. He looked pale and cold, and Remus could not beat back the urge to arrange the blankets more thoroughly around him before gathering his clothes and going for a bath.  
  
"Morning," Lily greeted him when he sat next to her at breakfast. "Isn’t it a bit early for you?" Her hair was frizzy and rumpled, she cradled a cup of tea in one hand and held her fork like a conductor’s baton in the other.  
  
Industriously he began piling food onto his plate. "A bit."  
  
She sipped her tea, "I heard there was a fight last night."  
  
He looked up at her from his plate and snorted inelegantly; Lily didn’t even have the grace to look casual, her entire posture screamed interest. "Are you asking me what happened?"  
  
She wasn’t one to disassemble, "Yes."  
  
He smiled, a bit ruefully, "Sirius provoked someone—"  
  
"Marek Hagop."  
  
"Yes," Remus agreed, and took a bite of toast. "And Marek punched him."  
  
Her eyebrows went up, "No details?"  
  
"I wasn’t there."  
  
"But you were after. Where’s Black?"  
  
"Asleep." Telling Lily was as good as telling the entire school—but this way he could control the rumours. It was likely she wouldn’t say anything if he asked her not to, but denying her gossip was almost cruel—she loved it in the same, slightly guilty, way she loved trashy novels.  
  
"The chronic insomniac? What," she looked amused, "does fighting help him sleep?" When Remus didn’t say anything her expression narrowed, "Wait, is that it? Is that why he provoked Hagop?"  
  
He sipped at his tea, "One of the reasons."  
  
She leaned forward, "What are the others?"  
  
"Boredom," he shrugged, "Restlessness, fun."  
  
"He lost."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"How bad is he?"  
  
" _Was_ he," Remus corrected.  
  
"You didn’t take him to Pomfrey."  
  
"No, I did it myself."  
  
She looked surprised, "I didn’t know you could heal."  
  
She made it sound like something much bigger than it was. He shrugged, a little uncomfortable, "You’d be surprised what I’ve picked up after six years with that lot."  
  
"Hardly any of it good," she smiled.  
  
"More than you’d think."  
  
This caused her to frown, but she rephrased her earlier question, "So how bad _was_ he?"  
  
"Black eye, split lip, bruised knuckles—" he hesitated "—some bad bruises on his side."  
  
Lily winced in sympathy, "No wonder he’s still in bed."  
  
Remus shrugged again, and was grateful when Lily turned the conversation to less personal things.  
  
  
There were seven Gryffindors staying in the castle. When Remus got back from posting a letter to his parents all but Sirius were in the common room; they sat silent, staring at him. He looked at Lily, accusingly.  
  
She looked reasonable, the way she always did. "The Ravenclaws have been being obnoxious, and no one’s seen Sirius."  
  
"Which isn’t like Black," said Pyrena Dewitt, a seventh year with dark skin, dark hair, and hazel eyes; she was frowning.  
  
"We want revenge," Leocadia got right to the point, her short legs not even reaching the floor from her perch on an armchair. She looked even younger in muggle jeans and jumper, despite her grave expression. Several of the others smiled. Sharing a sofa was Fenna Shyler, a pretty fifth year, blonde and petite, with big dark eyes and snub nose, and short, sandy-haired Orson Sorley, also a fifth year and probably her boyfriend, from the close way they sat.  
  
"You’re twelve," he told Leocadia, for want of anything else to say.  
  
She looked mutinous, but before she could open her mouth to speak Lily broke in, "You parachuted off the Astronomy Tower when you were twelve."  
  
"Not by choice," he felt compelled to point out, "James pushed me."  The memory still elicited a nauseous lurch of vertigo in his stomach, and he wrapped one arm around his middle.  
  
Lily was skeptical, "Then why did you have a parachute?"  
  
"Actually," said a voice off to their side—Sirius had managed to make it down without being noticed; he looked amused, "It was all of our bed sheets, sewn together, and James had to push him—he wouldn’t have done it otherwise."  
  
Remus scowled at him, "You’re not helping my point."  
  
"What point was that?" he peered around at their assembled housemates.  
  
"We want revenge," Leocadia said again.  
  
"Excellent," Sirius tucked his hands in his pockets, his smile full of mischief. "On whom?"  
  
"The Ravenclaws," it was Fenna who spoke.  
  
Sirius looked surprised, but Remus thought he was the only one that noticed, it passed so quickly. "What, just for Hagop beating me bloody?"  
  
"And for being generally insufferable," Pyrena said.  
  
"And for beating us at Quidditch," Orson added.  
  
" _Dahlia Osburn_ ," Leocadia said, her eyes so narrowed and her tone so dripping with hatred that none of them asked her for an explanation.  
  
Lily merely shrugged when Sirius looked at her, and Fenna smiled and chirped, "It sounds like fun."  
  
Remus thought of McGonagall’s warning the day before, and groaned inwardly. It would keep Sirius busy, he told himself, and out of fights. "Alright," he agreed, when Sirius sent a questioning look his way; he beamed in response.  
  
  
"We’re mad," Remus said as they walked back up to their dormitory, "This entire thing is mad."  
  
"It sounds like fun," Sirius parroted in Fenna’s high, bright voice.  
  
Remus winced; if people were colours Fenna was yellow. He assigned colours to the others, his co-conspirators: Lily was the bright blue she had worn on her fingernails, though he had noticed that sometime after breakfast she had re-painted them Gryffindor red. Pyrena was orange, though that perhaps was influenced by her name. Orson was green, Leocadia was deep, bloody scarlet, and Sirius was—this gave him pause, and he felt poncey even thinking it—the colour of the night’s sky: dark blue and purple and black and grey, all together. He couldn’t think of a colour for himself, but if he had asked Sirius his reply would have been amber without hesitation. Remus explained, tersely, about McGonagall’s warning.  
  
Sirius was unconcerned. "So we’ll establish you an alibi—she’s not unreasonable, she can’t blame you if we can prove you were on the wrong side of the castle. Or something," he added, when Remus merely frowned. He threw himself back onto his bed, "Now, I was thinking layers—"  
  
  
There were twenty-two Ravenclaws staying in the castle, outnumbering the Gryffindor’s by more than three to one; most were fifth or seventh years, serious about their OWLs or NEWTs. Remus couldn’t help but think that it was the challenge that interested Sirius, despite the other’s enthusiasm. Looking at their faces, watching them with a mix of excitement and anxiety, Remus felt trepidation. What had they gotten themselves into?  
  
"You have a plan," Pyrena spoke, leaning forward, causing her short, dark hair to fall into her face; she brushed it back impatiently.  
  
"We do."  
  
Remus spoke, purely to deny Sirius the pleasure of making them wait, "We’re throwing a party."  
  
There were mixed reactions, but Lily was smiling when she asked, "Where?"  
  
"There’s a passage on the seventh floor, well hidden, that’s large enough."  
  
"We thought mutual space would be best," Remus added.  
  
"And we get them at the party?" Pyrena asked.  
  
"After the party, or, rather, we use the party as a diversion, so that while they’re distracted we can get everything in place." Sirius smiled at him—the party had been Remus’ idea, though he had begun to regret it. Slowly, the others began to smile in comprehension.

" _I’ll_ put the idea around," Lily said, "we don’t want them getting suspicious."

"They will anyway," Remus pointed out, "but, being Ravenclaws, they'll come prepared and thing they're outsmarting us."

"While we're striking from a different direction," reasoned Fenna, her dark eyes sparkling.

Sirius grinned at her, a sharp, joyous, fey grin that prompted Orson to slip his arm around her shoulders. "We haven't been able to train him for company," Remus apologized, expression mournful. "He's never taken to it." The others laughed, a little surprised, and it took him a moment to realize that most of them knew him as their silent, sober prefect, or else as James and Sirius' less fun friend.

"But what do we do?" Leocadia asked, the only one not smiling.

"A lot, I'm afraid," Remus frowned at her, then glanced up at the others, catching each of their eyes in turn. "We need ideas-- things that won't be easy to fix."

"Nothing that can just be _finite incatatum'_ ed," Sirius added.

"Potions," Remus continued, "runes, hexes."

"Research," Orson spoke up for the first time, not happily.

"Yes," Sirius agreed, and if he noticed Orson's tone he ignored it, "Usually that's Remus' part, but I need him with me."

Remus explained, ignoring the lurch in his stomach that couldn't be explained away by anything as simple as vertigo, "Tactics and strategy, planning. Ideally I'll be the only one who knows the entire plan. Each of you will get your separate instructions, that way if one person is caught it has limited effects on the entire operation." He did not mention that by simple process of deduction, if they were betrayed, then Remus would know who the traitor was by what information was compromised.

"Why you?" Pyrena asked.

It was Lily who answered, "Because Lupin's the best liar of any of us."

　

Day Five: Machinations

The next morning everyone still present in the castle was there to see Sirius walk into the Great Hall and head straight for Marek Hagop. It was the first time he'd been seen out of Gryffindor Tower since after the fight, and many were surprised, and a few disappointed, to see that he bore no signs of a beating.

Hagop stood before Sirius stopped in front of him. "Black," he said, quiet voice audible in the suddenly silent Hall.

Sirius surprised them all by offering his hand. Many flinched as Hagop reached out to shake it, expecting explosions or lightning, or a sudden downpour of pudding. Nothing happened, and they two boys nodded at each other before Sirius made his way to the empty seat across from Remus.

"It seems a little unsporting," Remus pointed out, after the hush was over and the Hall was again filled with the sounds of cutlery and fevered gossip. "He's actually a decent bloke."

Sirius shrugged, "It isn't personal. He'll know that."

"Just business?" Remus asked, smiling despite himself.

"Exactly."

Remus shook his head; across the table, from her seat next to Fenna and Orson, Lily winked.

　

Sirius' next stop was the Infirmary, which he insisted on doing himself. He was nearly halfway down the double row of beds when Pomfrey came out of her office. She narrowed her eyes when she saw him; Sirius smiled at her.

"You've been fighting," she told him, reproving but not unkind.

"Do I look like I've been fighting?" he asked, spreading his arms and projecting good health and innocence.

"No, but I imagine between the two of you-- "she meant Remus" --you could manage my job."

"Never, Matron," he smiled winningly at her, but she merely frowned back at him.

"If you've only come to pester me, I'll have to turn you out. This is an Infirmary, not a rest stop."

He decided to get to the point, "I need a sleeping draught."

Her expression softened. Sirius’ insomnia was common knowledge amongst the staff, many of whom had found him doing mad races through the castle at obscene hours in the morning, running full-tilt down the corridors in an effort to wear himself out. He counted on Pomfrey assuming his sleeplessness was worse than usual, if he was coming to her; he was notorious for his dislike of sleeping potions. The way they made him feel-- like his brain was working at a quarter speed and his body wasn't quite his own-- caused him to cringe when they were even suggested. "Of course, dear." He felt her scrutiny and knew what she saw: the dark circles under his eyes, the slight grey tinge to his usual pallor, the weight loss. It was true he hadn't been sleeping, but that wasn't what he needed the potion for. "Just a moment."

She ducked back into her office and re-emerged with a tall bottle of dark blue glass, sealed with an overlarge cap. "Here we are, two capfuls with some water and you'll sleep for eight hours."

He took it from her and tilted his head, "It can be halved proportionally?"

"And doubled. I wouldn't suggest more than three, though." She looked serious, but very kind, and guilt settled in his stomach like a lead weight.

"Of course. Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."

She smiled, "Not at all, dear. Come find me when that runs low." With a last nod she went back to her office.

　

While Sirius was running his errand Remus was on the other side of the castle, showing Lily the passage behind the mirror. "I can't believe you’re giving up one of your secrets," she said, as they climbed stairs.

"We aren't, really. It takes a password to get through the mirror."

"How will that work?" she frowned.

He smiled, glad that was a part of the plan he could share-- it had been his idea and was particularly clever. "We're making keys-- invitations with the passwords spelled into them and a self-destruct hex if anyone tries so much as a reveal charm.

"You are brilliant, the both of you," she shook her head. "Black maintains that--" she searched for the the words, making vague hand gestures, "--that veneer of obliviousness, but he's a proper cleverboots, isn't he?"

Remus laughed, but he was a little surprised that she had only just noticed-- he had taken Sirius' brilliance for given since week one, when Sirius had glued James to the ceiling of their dormitory and a prefect had had to fetch McGonagall because he had refuse to let him down. "You don't speak to him much."

"Yes, well, that's because he's an arrogant pillock," she replied, almost cheerfully. "And he doesn't like me."

Remus considered disagreeing with her, but she was right and Sirius had made it painfully obvious in the past. "That's because James does. Like you, I mean." When she looked startled he asked, "Does it matter?"

She had stopped walking, and it took her a moment before she continued, shaking her head a little, "No. No, I guess not."

They were nearly at the passage, walking down the seventh floor corridor, when he realized what had happened. "You didn't know James was in earnest."

"Honestly, Lupin, what century are you from? _'In earnest_ ,'" she pulled her brows down low over her eyes. She looked away from him, expression evening, "I had considered the idea. Impossible not to-- it's been three years," she sounded bitter.

"Four," Remus corrected. "It took him time to build up his courage."

This time her eyebrows soared, up nearly to her hairline, green eyes widening comically, "If there was one thing I never thought James Potter would ever run short of it was reckless bravery." Her tone was scathing, but her expression turned thoughtful as they stepped in front of the mirror. He took one of the prototype keys out of his pocket. "I don't get to know the password," she realized.

"No one does." He didn't offer an apology, though her obvious hurt made it difficult.

"I'd do the same," she relented, after a few tense seconds, shrugging. "Probably." Lily understood how good information was when you're the only one who knows it, and she definitely understood strategy.

He handed her the scrap of parchment he had spent half the night on with Sirius over to Lily, who took it gingerly. "One time use only." He took another, slightly grubbier, parchment key from his pocket: the third key, Lily had the fourth. "We should be able to just walk through."

They looked at each other, Lily tilted her head, eyebrows up again, and Remus gave her a here-goes-nothing sort of smile, and they walked through the glass in tandem. Once through, the paper they held flared with sourceless light and crumbled into fine grey ash.

"Tidy," Lily remarked, and, brushing her hands off, began to inspect the space.

   
  


Sirius was sitting in the window when Remus got back to their dormitory. "Everything alright?" he asked, not bothering to turn around. They had fit a password to their door the day before, when Remus had begun pinning up his notes and the basis of the Plan on the walls, written in a simple shift cypher that, after six years of practice, he could read and write in without hesitation. He was certain Sirius had cracked it years ago, but they both, very politely, did not mention it to the other.

"As expected," he moved his shoulders in a shrug Sirius couldn’t see. "No problems as yet."

"They'll come," he could hear Sirius' smile. "Did you know the others gave the little one the slip?"

"Leocadia?"

"That's the one. Found her in the common room, looking murderous. I gave her a few titles of the better books, and directions to a place she won't be disturbed."

"Found your successor?" he asked, only half joking. "Someone to pass down all your tricks to?"

"Well, maybe not all of my tricks." Sirius stood and turned, his expression was grimmer than Remus had expected it to be. "Are you ready?" he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Now?"

Sirius shrugged, "Unless you want lunch first?"

"No," Remus decided, resigned. "I'll eat tonight. How much did she give you?"

"A bottle," he shrugged again. "Enough for the--" he hesitated "--whatever this is."

Remus listed the options, "Revenge, prank, job, con."

"All of the above," Sirius selected. "How long?"

"Ten hours?" he guessed.

"Two and a half capfuls," Sirius prescribed. He took the bottle of sleeping potion from the windowsill.

"You won't join me?" It was the fourth time he had asked.

Sirius gave him the same answer, "Someone has to make sure things don't fall apart. I'll be fine."

Remus did not believe him, but he accepted the mixed glass of water and potion when it was handed to him, and threw it back in one astringent swallow, before he could hesitate. He even let Sirius help him to lie down, when his knees suddenly went out from under him. The last thing he saw before closing his eyes for ten hours forced unconsciousness, was Sirius' pale face above him.  
  


Nine hours and fifty-six minutes later, Remus' eyes opened. One of the virtues of most sleeping draughts was that they sleep they promote is dreamless, and Remus woke feeling more rested than he had in months.

"Two hours and twenty-seven minutes until midnight," Sirius told him. Remus sat up and saw that Sirius was in James' bed, directly across from him.

"Time for you to sleep." Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but Remus didn't let him, "I'm insisting. Strongly."

"You don't want to know what happened today?"

"No, I don't." He reconsidered, "It can wait, rather. You need to sleep."

"I won't take the potion."

"No," Remus said, "I wouldn't force you. Lay down, at least. Rest your eyes." The eyes in question were bloodshot, their lids heavy.

"Alright," he relented, laying back in James' bed. "Could you--" he hesitated.

"Should I leave?"

"Quite the opposite. Make noise, or something-- read aloud?"

"Anything in particular?" he looked around, small piles of books abounded in their dormitory. He picked one up at random, and smiled when he saw what he had chosen. He began to read: " _'There was once a boy named Milo who didn't know what to do with himself-- not just sometimes but always._

" _'When he was in school he longed to be out, and when he was out he longed to be in. On the way he thought about coming home, and coming home he thought about going. Wherever he was he wished he were somewhere else, and when he got there he wondered why he'd bothered. Nothing really interested him-- least of all the things that should have_."

"What is this?" Sirius asked, voice muffled by the pillow.

"Muggle fiction-- 'The Phantom Tollbooth.'" When Sirius only grunted, he continued.

　

"Where's Sirius?" Lily asked, when Remus showed up in the common room shortly before midnight.

"Sleeping," he replied, with such an air of grave finality that she wouldn't have objected if she wanted.

"That's good then," was all she said on the matter. She handed him a list, written in her own tidy script, of potions and their ingredients.

"These are good," he replied, looking over it. "You can make all of these?"

"Sure," she shrugged.

"Leocadia."

"What about her?"

"She needs something to do-- proper work. You could use an assistant." At her unconvinced look, he tried, "Sirius likes her."

Lily's laugh was short and wry, "That isn't exactly the ringing endorsement you seem to think it is." She appeared to think it over, "She's a bit odd, isn't she?"

"So am I. So are you, for that matter."

She tapped him in the center of the chest with one long, red-painted nail, "You sure know how to charm a girl, Lupin." Her grin was crooked, "Alright, then, I'll talk to her. Anything else?"

"Yeah," he ran both hands through his hair. "For the potions-- I need a list of what we have, collectively, and what we can get without any trouble."

"Not everything."

"I know. Really, I'm just asking for a list of what Sirius and I need to, " he smiled, " _liberate_."

"I'll make three lists: what we have, what we can get, and what we need to _liberate_ ," she shook her head. "Black's wearing off on you."

"We're wearing off on each other," he corrected. "Do you need any help?"

"And keep you from skulking about the castle? I wouldn't dream of it." She chuckled when he looked guilty, "You're wearing your skulking clothes," she pointed out, as if it were very obvious.

He looked down at himself: dark, long-sleeved shirt, dark trousers, well-worn shoes, and Sirius' good dragon hide gloves. "So I am."

  


  



	4. Clarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two week adventure of the Easter Holiday of sixth year, in which there is a great deal of Revenge and Other Interesting Things.

 

Day Six: Evasions  
   
Evading Filch without the Invisibility Cloak was usually a two man job: one caused the diversion that held up the caretaker on the other side of the castle and the other achieved whatever legally dubious activity that was required of the night. Without Sirius, Remus had to do both jobs, which meant he had to improvise.  
   
After Lily went back up to her dormitory-- he was sure she wouldn't condone what he was about to do-- he grabbed up one of the cats that was forever lazing about the common room, a fluffy grey Himalayan with seal points and a grumpy expression, and immobilized it. Tucking her under one arm and the map under the other he exited the portrait hole and, ignoring the Fat Lady's complaints, waited out in the corridor until his vision had adjusted and he could walk quickly without stumbling; he didn't like to risk the light.  
   
The last check of the map had shown Filch and his cat at the sixth floor on the western side of the castle. Remus found a deserted niche on the opposite side of the same floor and checked the map again. Satisfied that Filch was neither too close nor too far he unfroze the cat, apologized by scratching under its chin, and, whispering, cast two spells. The cat shot off with a magically amplified yowl, running straight for Filch. Remus took his chance, sprinting for the stairs. He made it in plenty of time, with Filch's shouts adding incentive.  
   
He was panting when he reached the library, and had to gain his breath before he opened the doors. Softly, he let them close behind him, and he checked the Map again before heading for the Restricted Section. Madam Pince would notice if anything was gone for too long, but Remus already knew what was needed, so it was a simple matter of a copying charm. He wiped these new pages clear with an obscurement, and folded them away neatly to store in his pocket. He repeated the action several times, returning the books safely to their shelves when he finished.   
   
A quick check proved that the way to Gryffindor Tower was clear, and he took quick, measured steps through the castle, ghosting along the corridors.  
   
   
"Bad form, Moony," Sirius informed him, as he was sticking his night's efforts to the wall where the rest of his plans were laid out, all adding up to The Plan.   
   
"You're saying you wouldn't have done the same?"  
   
Sirius glowered, four hours sleep hadn't done him much good. "How did you distract Filch?"  
   
"A cat and judicious use of a stinging hex," he couldn't help the smile that crept up.  
   
Sirius laughed outright, his distemper forgotten. "You got everything?"  
   
"Easy." He stretched and shook his arms out, working off the last of the adrenaline rush. "Lily's working on a supplies list. We'll have it today sometime. Early-- knowing her. I'll expect we'll have most of the ingredients on it, but...." he trailed off, shrugging.  
   
"No good letting them know that," Sirius agreed, smiling. "We'd have too much competition if they knew it was so easy."  
   
"We had the cloak when we were learning-- unfair advantage."  
   
"We _needed_ it," Sirius insisted fervently. "We would have gotten three times the detentions--" he broke off, realizing he had been arguing for Remus' point and not against. He shrugged blithely, "I still like to keep them in awe-- it generates the proper respect."  
   
Very respectfully, Remus hit him in the head with a pillow.  
   
   
It had taken many years to perfect the art of stealing potion supplies. It was best attempted during a meal time, or else when Slughorn was in Hogsmeade. It was always best to wear gloves and, their most hard won of secrets, to take things they didn't need. It was easy to guess what potion wayward students were attempting when most of the ingredients for a powerful shrinking solution had been pilfered, but if you added to those two or three potions that contained some of the same ingredients and took also those things you didn't need, then you had successful misdirection.  
   
Lily came a few hours later, just before Remus began preparing to sleep. At her knock he wiped The Plan clean on the wall, and Sirius opened the door, admitting her to the room. She looked about herself and wrinkled her nose. "I don't know why I had the impression it would be tidier." She caught sight of the space between Remus and Sirius' beds, where the blank papers were stuck, and whistled. She held up the parchment she clutched in her right hand. "I've come to add to your collection, apparently."  
   
Remus took the list; at the top, in her small, economical cursive, was the heading 'To Beg, Borrow, or Steal.' As he suspected, most of the ingredients they already had, and a few the could get fresh from the forest. Remus sighed, then yawned. "It's more than I thought-- five at least."  
   
" _Five_?" Lily repeated. "There's more than a _dozen_ things on that list." They both merely looked at her. "Oh."  
   
"You'll take Lily, Sirius," he said, and spoke over his protest. "Before lunch, when Slughorn leaves for the Three Broomsticks. There should be plenty of time." He looked around for something to write with, and found a grubby ballpoint pen. Deftly, he circled the things they needed from Lily's list. "Just these," he said, and handed the paper back to her. Sirius looked mutinous, but he had agreed, when he voted Remus in charge of the Plan, to give Remus final call. Nevertheless, he felt the need to explain himself, "Sirius, you'll know better than I what to disguise these as, and Lily knows what's being brewed."  
   
"So do you," Lily pointed out. It occurred to Remus that she didn't like the arrangement any more than Sirius.  
   
"I'm needed elsewhere," he explained, succinctly. He yawned again, "And I need sleep if that's going to happen."  
   
They glowered at him with nearly identical expressions. He was inflexible, and took care to make his expression very mild and expectant, as though he though their capitulation already settled. "Alright," Lily gave in first, folding the list and tucking it away in her pocket. "After breakfast, Black," she said, and it sounded more like a threat than agreement. She left, before either of them could say anything.  
   
   
Four hours later, when, reluctantly, Remus pulled himself out of bed and set about normal morning routines, Sirius was already gone, presumably to take care of the task assigned him. With no other truly pressing matters to attend, he decided to satisfy a personal curiosity.  
   
The Map showed him how things lay: Pyrena, Fenna, and Orson were in the library, huddled together; Lily and Sirius walked together through the dungeons; Slughorn was just about to leave through the front gates, walking off the edge of the Map even as Remus watched; and Leocadia was pacing in an unused classroom on the fourth floor. He found the name he was looking for in the same courtyard he had talked with Lily in just days before.  He tucked the Map away and left Gryffindor tower.  
   
Marek Hagop was walking the square perimeter of the courtyard. Remus watched him unobserved for several minutes, tucked away into a shadowy niche, unfortunately occupied with spiders and their webs, but otherwise serviceable, before approaching.  
   
"Hagop," he greeted, stepping out into the light while surreptitiously brushing cobwebs off of his clothing.  
   
Hagop became still, focusing on Remus. He was ludicrously tall, with broad shoulders and a sturdy build-- his fist was probably bigger than Remus' entire head, and he gained a new appreciation for Sirius' improved fighting skills. He had dark hair and dark eyes, and when he spoke his voice was low and gravely, though the accent was crisp. "Lupin?"  
   
"Hagop." He licked his lips nervously, and for a moment forgot what he had wanted to say. Remembering wasn't much better, as it wasn't an easy subject to broach.  
   
"Black looks well," Marek spoke. "You patched him up?"  
   
"I did," Remus locked his hands behind his back. "You healed yourself?"  
   
He shook his head, "No, a friend-- Beatrice Greenwood," he named one of the Ravenclaw prefects.  
   
"Oh, right. Well," he hesitated, before deciding painful bluntness was the best tactic. "I was wondering what Sirius told you, that you felt the need to crack his ribs," that hadn't come out exactly as planned. "I mean, he can be annoying, but..." he trailed off, trying to gauge Hagop's expression.  
   
"He didn't tell you?"  
   
"I didn't ask."  
   
"But you're asking me?"  
   
Remus shrugged. Hagop's expression was shuttered, and he couldn't read more than a spark of grim amusement.   
   
"Yeah, well," he looked away. "We were in the Hog's Head, me and a few friends, Black was already there, by himself--"  
   
"Drunk?"  
   
"Not that I could tell." He frowned, "Maybe. We were at the table next to his, and as soon as we sit down he starts throwing snide comment-- about all of us, no just me --and it's not a big deal because it's Black, right?"  
   
"Sure," Remus had never understood how the rest of the castle viewed his friends-- a blend of annoyance, mistrust, amusement and long-suffering, almost proprietary, fondness.  
   
"Anyway, the other's leave and it's just me and Black, still at separate tables, and the usual sort you get at the Hog's Head, and just as I'm leaving he stands up and declares, to the entire room, that he snogged my brother. So I punched him, and he hit me back."  
   
Remus' frown was prodigious, "That's all? You fought over a lie?"  
   
Hagop gave him an odd look, "It wasn't a lie-- I hit him because it was the truth."  
   
"Oh," was all Remus could manage. He turned the new information over in his head and walked off.  
   
   
A few hours later, when he got back to the Common Room, the others were already there. Sirius was expertly folding coloured paper into origami hyacinths-- the new and improved keys to the mirror passage. He had collected a small audience, and both Lily and Fenna knelt at the same low table, their own crumpled and many folded hexagons of paper not quite managing to look like flowers.  
   
"Lupin, have you seen this?" Lily asked, meaning the pile of perfect starlike flowers next to Sirius.  
   
"He can do animals, too-- monkeys and things." He didn't mention the time he had helped Sirius make an army of paper monkeys and used them to attack James and Peter, but from the grin Sirius flashed him the reference wasn't missed.  
   
Seeing nothing else he could do, Remus took a spot at the table, unfolded and refolded one of Sirius' flowers several times, to see how it was put together, and then began correcting the girl's less crumpled attempts, with Sirius' for reference.  
   
"I don't understand," Lily began, smoothing out one of her rejects and using her wand to erase the creases, "how you can manage this but melt six cauldrons in one year."  
   
"Which year was this?" Fenna asked, her dark eyes intent on her own folding.  
   
"Second?"  
   
"It was eight that year," Sirius looked up from another perfect hyacinth. "That was also the year we banned Remus from extracurricular potion brewing."  
   
"James made a decree with seals and ribbons-- very official-- and pinned it to the wall." Remus quoted a bit of it, "By majority agreement it has been decided that one Remus J. Lupin shall never willingly brew a potion, nor should he be coerced, bribed, or extorted, etc., on punishment of something very bad, to be decided when need arises.' That sort of thing; we all signed it."  
   
"Something very bad?" Fenna asked, with a smile.  
   
Sirius began folding a hexagon of shiny purple paper, "We're very democratic-- punishment's put to a vote."  
   
"And if it's tied?" asked Lily, who was unfolding the same piece of paper.  
   
"Remus decides."  
   
He explained, "Say Sirius did coerce me into making a potion, by the decree he obviously has to be punished."  
   
"Obviously," the girls said together.  
   
Remus smiled, "So we each make a suggestion: Sirius thinks he should be made to eat an entire chocolate cake, James wants him to be set on fire, Peter votes to feed him to the giant squid, and I think he should be made to clean the dormitory. We each vote for our own idea, I break the tie, and Sirius is scraping dirty socks from under Peter's bed."  
   
"You laugh," Sirius told them, mock-serious, "but Pettigrew's bed is its own ecosystem-- life forms live and die under those sheets." This, as it was meant to, only sparked more laughter.  
   
"So where were you?" Lily asked, after a few minutes of companionable silence. "Or is that another secret?"  
   
"No secret," he said, placing a finished flower in the pile. "I was on a peace mission to the Ravenclaws."  
   
Lily added one of her own flower keys-- she had adopted Remus' method of unfolding and refolding one of Sirius' flowers when she became stuck and the results were much improved. "Right," she flicked her hair back. "And where's Pyrena?"  
   
"And Orson?" added Fenna.  
   
He noticed neither were concerned over Leocadia's whereabouts. "Borrowing," he told them, with certain emphasis.  
   
   
"Padfoot?" Remus asked, much later that night, when they were making their way back up to Gryffindor Tower after dinner. They had been talking comfortably earlier, but a natural silence had fallen, giving Remus time to order his thoughts. What he had decided was that he best thing would be for Sirius to tell him the circumstances of the fight himself, and then demand an explanation-- or to hide somewhere dark and quiet, he hadn't quite decided.  
   
"Hmm?" Sirius had his thumbnail between his teeth-- not biting, just holding. It was a familiar gesture, and Remus knew that if he grew tense enough, Sirius would begin biting down.  
   
"What were you fighting with Hagop over?"  
   
"My honour," Sirius replied, dropping his hand and smiling.  
   
Remus merely raised an eyebrow.  
   
"No?" Sirius laughed. "Alright-- your honour, then."  
   
"I hadn't known my honour was in such a questionable position." He was getting no closer to his objective.  
   
"Yes, well," Sirius gave a very modest shrug. "Couldn't let that sort of things stand, and whatnot."  
   
Remus let it drop, not quite convincing himself that it was strategy, and not cowardice.  
   
   
Day Seven: Hidden

The next afternoon marked the beginning of their potion brewing. Remus selected a disused classroom on the sixth floor for their use that was out of the way and took a solid hour to clean the dust out of and caused Remus' nose to run hotly for at least two. As the others gathered the required ingredients for their day's work-- the potions were staggered, so that those that needed time to mature were brewed first --from their various hiding places around the castle, Remus began drawing on the classroom door with his wand.  
   
Amber light flared in a complicated pattern of curves and angles, they formed the runes for hiding and concealment, and he was so intent on his work that he didn't notice he was being watched until Lily spoke, "Nicely done. Of course, I can't actually see the door anymore, but I suppose you've thought of that."  
   
"Lupin thinks of everything," to his very great surprise, that high, clear voice was Leocadia, looking serious and matter-of-fact.  
   
"As it happens," he flashed her a quick smile and tucked his wand away. The light from the runes had faded away as soon as he completed the diagram, and even to his eyes the door they hid was invisible. It wouldn't hold up to close inspection, but the nature of the runes he had used was to keep someone from looking at it too closely. He extracted a ballpoint pen from his pocket and very carefully drew an equilateral cross of two overlapping almond shapes, their centre section coloured in on the web of skin at the base of his thumb. The door slid into view, his runes just thin amber lines on the wood, flickering faintly. Lily offered him her hand, but he shook his head, "Somewhere that won't be seen."  
   
"Can't be too careful," Lily agreed, a little mockingly; she drew the sleeve of her blue shirt up and he inked the rune on her pale, freckled shoulder. Leocadia took her left foot out of her loafer, she wasn't wearing socks, and offered it to him, balancing herself by leaning against the stone wall. He drew the rune on the inside arch of her foot, crouching low to be sure he got it just right. Both girls carried shrunken cauldrons in their book bags and he let them into the room to begin setting up workstations.  
   
When Fenna and Orson arrived with the ingredients he repeated the runes-- under Fenna's many bangly bracelets and under the arm of Orson's long sleeved shirt. The last group was Sirius and Pyrena, and when he explained about the runes she offered her leg by lifting her skirt and arching her eyebrows. Perfunctorily he drew the overlapping eyes on her kneecap and let her through the door. Sirius' rune went on the nape of his neck, under his shaggy hair, and for that his breath did catch, though his hands remained steady.   
   
"Thanks, Moony," Sirius said, shaking his hair back. "Is that all of us, then?"  
   
Remus' nose itched, and he was covered in dust and grime. "It is, and as I'm no longer needed I'm going to see if I can scrub off a few decades worth of accumulated filth."  
   
"Get the cobwebs out of your hair," Sirius agreed. Quite unexpectedly Sirius reached out and ran his quick, nimble fingers through Remus' hair, smoothing it back from his face. Just as quickly he dropped his hand and shook off, maybe, a cobweb, or perhaps nothing at all.  
   
There was absolute silence in the corridor, no sound escaped Remus' hidden room and both boys were utterly still. Remus cleared his throat, breaking the moment. "I, ah, I'll go, now--"  
   
"Yes," Sirius looked away. "Of course, sure. I'll just--" he held up his own bag of shrunken supplies.  
   
"Right," Remus nodded, vaguely, keeping the emotion out of his voice and his expression. Without a word Sirius went through the rune-spelled door, closing it quietly behind him, and Remus left for a long, luxurious soak in the prefect's bath, building up his courage for what he had to do next.  
   
   
Elian Hagop was Marek's twin, and though they shared many attributes, few of them were physical. Elian was very tall, but thin and lean where his brother was muscled and bulky, with dark hair, blue-green eyes and handsome features: arched brows, a patrician nose, and a full-soft looking mouth. While Sirius often resembled the hound he could turn into-- a paradoxical combination of lethargy and intense alertness-- Elian was a big cat, a predator, his metaphorical tail twitching as he watched Remus approached. 

"Lupin," he greeted, in a voice like warm caramel.  
   
Remus, who could remember when Elian's voice first began cracking, was not swayed. "Hagop," he returned, crisply.  
   
Elian scrutinized him closely, then glanced up at the sky, quite obviously annoyed. They were outside the castle, on the grounds close to the lake. "Marek told you."  
   
"He did."  
   
"And you've come to defend Black's honour? I've no interest in fighting you."  
   
This was so close to what Sirius had told him the day before that humour twisted his mouth, though it made his expression no less harsh. "No, nor I you." He did his best to stay very calm, because when he lost his grip on himself his imagination supplied him with far too vivid images of what might have passed between Sirius and the tall, striking boy in front of him. It was terribly distracting, and Remus linked his hands behind his back and dug his nails into his palms in an effort to restore calm.  
   
"You'll forgive me if I don't believe you."  
   
"On which count?" he asked, willing to let Hagop guide the conversation.  
   
Elian's laugh was low and humming and absolutely humourless.  
   
"Sirius can defend his own honour," he tried again.  
   
"Yes," Elian inspected his long, elegant hands; ink splotched the first and second finger of his right hand, and Remus watched him rub absently at it. "I _had_ realised that, when my brother showed up bruised and bloody in our common room."  
   
"Sirius was worse," he couldn't help pointing out, acidly.  
   
Hagop's brows rose, "You're expecting an apology?"  
   
"I don't encourage people to lie to my face," his voice was cool, "and neither am I so insecure that I require your apology to feel better about myself." Elian looked taken aback, and Remus realised that it wasn't only his housemates that thought of him as quiet and mild-mannered.  
   
A slow, feline smile spread across Hagop's handsome face, "And here I was wondering what Black sees in you-- you've a reputation as such a dour little mouse, no matter what Black and Potter get up to, but you've got a bite."  
   
"You've no idea," he couldn't resist saying. If Sirius had been there they would have been grinning at each other, as it was, he could not resist the slight smile that twitched his lips and creased the corners of his eyes.  
   
"So if it isn't an apology you're after, and you're not interested in a fight, why have you come?"  
   
It was as if a switch had been flipped, taking his bad mood away. It was apparent that whatever had passed between Elian and Sirius was over. "I've come," he spoke in a tone that would have been familiar to any of his friends, warm and mocking, "to interrupt your moody introspection; you looked positively Gothic." The day was overcast, the sky steel grey with the promise of rain, and wind coaxed their hair and clothes up and away from their bodies. Poised at the edge of the lake, they would have fit in among any number of eighteenth century novels. Hagop stared flatly at him, and Remus asked the question he had sought him out for, though for a slightly different reason, "When did what happened happen, between you and Sirius?"  
   
Elian glared, "I don't think--"  
   
Remus cut him off, "Sirius hasn't been sleeping, hasn't been eating; he looks..." he trailed off, shrugging, uncertain of himself.  
   
A light lit in Elian's blue-green eyes. "I don't think," he said again, slowly, though, purringly, "that it's me Black is pining for, as much as I'd like to flatter myself. We've been done for months."  
   
"Oh." Remus did not think it would be exactly couth to demand dates and times, though he wished to. He tried to recall if he had witnessed anything peculiar about Sirius or his habits a few months ago, but Sirius was almost routinely peculiar, and he could not hope to pin a date down on so little information. "Right, thanks," he had the presence of mind to say, giving Elian a sort of wave/salute combination before walking off, back to the castle.  
   
   
Remus had been almost too preoccupied to remember, but when an owl tapped on the glass of their dormitory window that evening, he knew with certainty where it had come from before removing the envelope from its foot. The first letter, more a scrap of parchment covered in chicken scratch, read: _I broke my leg. You bastards. J_.  
   
The second was addressed to Sirius Black  & Remus Lupin, in an elegant hand. Unfolding it, he read: _While we understand that what happened was not unprovoked, we hope that, if there is a next time, you give your actions due consideration. Failing that, please remember that it is a holiday, and wading through St. Mungo's was not how we intended to spend it. With Regards, Mr. & Mrs. P._  
   
Remus took just a moment to enjoy the accomplished feel a job finished produced, and then began drafting an apology to the Potters.  
   
   
   
Even at quarter capacity the thought of facing the Great Hall that night was unbearable. The full moon was less than forty hours away and Remus was already beginning to feel it, pain in his muscles flaring as a nearly-full moon rose over Hogwarts. He scavenged a meal from the kitchens, the elves only too happy to oblige, and carried it up with him to the dormitory.  
   
His senses were always the first thing to change and the last to return to normal. Bones and muscle broke and reformed itself easily, but he appreciated that his body took extra care with his brain, though he didn't enjoy it. The food smelt over spiced and tasted overcooked, and he ate little of it, though he drank glass after glass of water. Colours were already fading, replaced by night-vision; by Sunday they would be gone, and it would take most of Monday for his eyes and brain to rewire for colour once again.  
   
Never mind the actual transformation, which, while brutal, was, at least, over quickly-- the twilight time in which he could not deny what he was, when his body and mind betrayed him, making it impossible to push away the other part of him, was torture. He heard Sirius' steps on the stair, and used the moment it took to disengage the locking charm on their door to consign his messy thoughts to some far away corner of his mind. Sirius, at least, was practically unchanged in monochrome; a small consolation when he realised that the room was much too dark to be making out any detail.  
   
Sirius did not light his wand, but used feel and memory to navigate to his four-poster. "Already?" he asked, throwing himself back onto his mattress, arms spread-eagle.  
   
"What do you mean?" he didn't put any effort into the act, not about this-- not with Sirius, and his voice came out harsh, pained.  
   
Sirius swung an arm over his face; his laugh was muffled, but no less scornful for it, "I don't think I have to answer that." He yawned, "Would you like to talk about it?"  
   
"Not really."  
   
"Good." There was a short burst of activity and then Sirius was under his blankets and his clothes and shoes were in a pile on the floor. "Because I'm tired." Then, to Remus' complete surprise, Sirius curled up into himself and dropped off to sleep.  
  



End file.
